Beat That, Kennedy
by madsthenerdygirl
Summary: Forget Marilyn Monroe - this has got to be the best birthday present ever.


**Title: Beat That, Kennedy**

**Rating: For crying out loud, people, can't you guess?**

**Summary: Forget Marilyn Monroe – this has to be the best birthday present ever.**

**Disclaimer: I'm flattered, but no.**

**Author's Note: Oh, my dear darling lovelies! How I missed you so! I was gallivanting about Europe for two months without a computer and so had to take a break but now I'm here to stay! I hope you all won't mind being bombarded with Caskett smut, will you?**

Richard Castle liked to think of himself as a grateful man, one who appreciated all that life had given to him or allowed him to earn. And to be fair, he'd had some lovely birthdays over the years. But all of them – every single one – paled in comparison to what Kate had done for him this year.

He really was the luckiest man in the world.

Now, it might not be a breathy rendition of "Happy Birthday" and a lap dance, but c'mon. A fake murder that he got to solve in true Hitchcock fashion? All of his friends gathered together to celebrate? A cake in his favorite flavor (double chocolate with vanilla icing, because vanilla cake with chocolate icing just does not cut it, people) and a helicopter to replace the one he broke? And Kate. Beautiful, gorgeous, immaculate Kate, in that dress, her face shining and happy and her smile big enough to light up the room.

Yeah, definitely the best birthday gift ever.

But it wasn't so much the gift – although, as he said, that was fantastic – but the thought behind it that was making his heartbeat pick up and his head whirl a little. The fact that Kate knew how much he would love this… that she knew exactly what would relieve his boredom and make him feel special on this day of days… she knew him so well. Much better, in fact, then his mother or his daughter, if truth be told (but don't tell them that).

It filled him up with a warm feeling akin to a shot of whiskey, but more soothing, and longer lasting.

Of course, the best part came later, after the cake had been cut and eaten and the guests had all gone home. Alexis was hauled up to her bedroom and forced to sleep so she'd have time to get to her classes in the morning, his mother departed for her spa trip (which she'd delayed a week), and Ryan and Esposito were driven home by Lanie, who managed to stay relatively sober.

Kate gave him that big, sultry smile of hers, the one that spoke of mischief and good times, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"So, Mr. Castle…" She intoned. "Did you enjoy your birthday?"

"I think I can say, with absolute conviction, that this was the best birthday I have ever had." He informed her, smiling up at the amazing, amazing woman he had somehow been lucky enough to claim as his own.

"Well, it's not over just yet." Kate reminded him, dragging her hands across his chest as she walked around the side of the wheelchair that Rick had collapsed into about an hour ago. She leaned in, brushing their lips together before nipping at his chin, her teeth dragging against his stubble deliciously. "There's still some more celebrating to do."

She didn't exactly drag him to the bedroom, seeing as it was impossible in his current physical condition, but she did wheel him there as fast as she could. Rick laughed. "Slow down there, Flash!"

Kate halted in front of their (he still got a rush of joy whenever he realized that it was truly _theirs_) bed, suddenly slowing down to strut in front of him, those wicked legs of hers shown off to their full extent in that short dress and high heels.

"You want this, Castle?" She asked, her voice lowering to that husky timbre that sent heat coursing through him. "Want to unwrap your birthday present?"

Rick swallowed, still a little embarrassed at how easily she could get to him and how fruitless he was at hiding his attraction. At least now he didn't have to worry about Kate knowing.

"You know I do." He replied, grinning.

Without further ado Kate curled into his lap, slinking her arms around his neck and pressing their foreheads together. "Happy Birthday, Castle." She whispered, her lips brushing against his as she spoke, her lips quirking up in a smile before she pressed their lips together properly, her tongue swiping across the seam of his mouth, working it open to delve inside.

Happy Birthday indeed.

Kate's fingers massaged the back of his head, deepening the kiss and working him until he felt like he was melting slowly into a boneless pile of molten… something. His writer brain was kind of short-circuiting at the moment. He tried to pull her closer, craving the feel of her body against his, but the angle they were at and the damn wheelchair made it impossible. They broke apart with a wet _pop_, and he got to drink in the sight of Kate Beckett, her pupils completely taking over her eyes, her lips wet and swollen, her nostrils flaring as she breathed greedily.

"How about we move this somewhere we can actually maneuver?" She suggested, her voice sounding a little raw.

He didn't trust his voice at the moment, so he nodded, letting her slip through his fingers, slip away from him and retreat.

But only for a moment.

Because ever since they started this more intimate version of the dance they've been sharing for the past four-odd years, Kate has been taking steps forward that he never would have guessed she'd be brave enough to do. She'd jumped in with both feet, surprising him in the best way. And every time they part they only come back together, closer than before.

He couldn't think of any words to describe it.

Since the bed was currently at the level of his chest thanks to the damn wheelchair, Rick had perfected what Kate had dubbed "the launch". This operation consisted of pushing himself out of the wheelchair and turning while he was precariously balanced on his good leg so that he landed in a sitting position on the edge of the bed. From there, he could scoot himself up to where the soft pillows (and almost as soft Kate) waited.

This time, once he was seated on the bed, Kate slipped around to stand in front of him, one leg on either side of his, her chest hovering just above his eye level (they didn't have a big height difference in the first place, and she was damn tall in those heels).

"Go on, Rick." She whispered. "Aren't you going to open it?"

He certainly didn't need more urging than that. His fingers tripped up her upper legs, wrapping around her waist as they so often had before, as they had been unable to do since he'd been forced to occupy them with holding his crutches. The dress was almost as smooth as Kate's honeyed skin.

It honestly did feel like he was slowly unwrapping a present as he unzipped the back, carefully peeling back the silky black material to reveal the warm skin beneath, letting the dress slide to the floor without a second thought as the miracle of nature that was his girlfriend was laid bare before him.

Sometimes he was pretty sure God made Kate Beckett just to show off.

There was a time, when they first got together, that he was… not hesitant, per se – more like admiring. He couldn't help but take a moment to stare, drink her in, marvel at the wonder before him. Now, however, he was far too gone. He'd admire later, when she was asleep and peaceful, her arm splayed out to the side and her hair fanning around her face like tendrils of sunlight. Right now he could feel the electricity pass from her to him and back again, feel the buzz of it in his fingertips as he reached for her, feel the warm glow of her skin under his.

He pulled her to him, forcing her to straddle his lap, her knees pressing into the bed and her arms bracing themselves on his shoulders. He ran his hands over her, his palms pressing into the warm, supple skin. Kate leaned in, her lips ghosting over his forehead, her breasts just under his chin. He nuzzled into her throat, feeling it constrict as she swallowed hard.

"Are you going to finish?" She whispered, her voice catching twice in the sentence.

"Patience, Detective." He reminded her. "It's _my_ birthday."

He nipped playfully at the tendons of her neck, his nibbles descending into sucks as he feasted on her skin. It was a taste that defined explanation, at once salty and sweet, slightly bitter but so juicy and rich. He could feel every bob of her throat, every ripple of muscle as Kate released little mewling sounds, her arms wrapping tighter around him and her thighs clenching rhythmically at his waist.

His hands appeared to have developed a brain independent of his own, because they moved of their own accord as they ran up and down her arms, over her stomach, cupping her butt and squeezing her waist. When he finally pulled away with a final, whisper-soft kiss to the corner of her mouth, he found that he'd apparently rid Kate of her underwear.

And they said men couldn't multitask.

"Do you like it?" Kate asked teasingly. She knew very well that he liked it. In fact, he was certain that she knew _too_ well.

"Y'know…" She observed, pulling out the various bobby pins and ties that held up her hair, "Normally it's just the presents that get unwrapped, but in this case I think the birthday boy has his own undressing to do."

Rick slid his fingers through the waterfall of hair now cascading over Kate's shoulder, soft and plentiful. "Duly noted." He agreed, withdrawing his hand in order to undo the buttons on his shirt.

Kate purred, a sound that she'd deny she ever made if brought up outside of the bedroom, and helped him out of the rest of his clothes, a process hampered by his leg (at least damn cast was off). Once that was accomplished she pushed him onto his back, sliding up his body with all the sinewy grace of a snake, her smile infectious.

"Hi." She whispered once they were nose to nose.

"Hi." He replied, wrapping both arms around her back, sealing their lips together. How had this woman come to know him so well? How had she managed to worm her way into his life so that he couldn't even breathe without her? He didn't know, and in a way he didn't care. He was too busy being grateful.

It was incredibly cheesy, but she was the reason this was his best birthday ever.

"Just sit back and relax." Kate informed him, her voice just above a whisper. She planted several soft kisses on his chest, reaching back to wrap her hand around him, fisting him. His eyes rolled back into his head and he fell back against the pillow. Kate swiped her thumb over the head, making him gasp.

Over time, the buzzing anticipation, the heady giddiness whenever she walked into the room had morphed into a comforting glow, a reassuring warmth that assured him he was truly whole now. But the almost electrical shock of her touch on him, the feel of her against him – that had never changed. He was beginning to doubt it ever would.

Kate worked him up and down, her grip alternating between firm and loose, adding unexpected twists of the wrist that had him digging his hands into the sheets. His eyes were closed so he was completely caught off-guard when she took him into her mouth, his eyes shooting open to stare half-wildly at the sight. A part of him felt like such an insensitive male but _God_ he fucking loved it when she did this. He didn't know where she picked up her techniques (and wasn't all that sure he wanted to know) but Kate gave the best damn blowjobs in the history of… ever.

Yeesh. Talk about an anticlimactic ending to a sentence. He was really far gone. It felt like stars were dancing across the back of his eyes and he could feel heat pooling and rising in his groin like fiery honey, thick and sweet and scorching.

"Kate…"

The cause of his current insanity looked up at him, letting him slip from her mouth with a wet slurp that sent his head spinning.

"Yes?" She replied, her lips forming the word with exaggerated movement. His eyes were drawn to her mouth, plump and glistening and achingly red.

"C'mere." He made a kind of half-gesture, waving vaguely. Motor skills were a little beyond him at the moment.

Kate chuckled, the sound reverberating through his body and dancing up his spine. She crawled up obligingly until their faces were barely an inch apart. He pulled her head down, kissing her until he had to breathe. When he did so he took a moment to examine Kate's face. Her eyes were closed and she had a ghost of a smile on her lips. A strange sound was coming from her throat. It took him a moment to realize she was humming the happy birthday song.

Without warning he felt her sink onto him, her tight warmth swallowing him up before he could so much as choke on his next breath. She moved above him, the dimmed lights casting her half in shadow, her lithe form suddenly seeming almost otherworldly, glowing with an inner light. He wanted to soak it all up, wanted to watch her as she slowly, like cracking glass, shattered and fell to pieces but he'd been thinking about this half the night, wanting her, craving her, resisting the urge to take her right there in the rented apartment in front of God and (almost) everyone he knew for thinking up this wonderful, fantastic surprise for him. The anticipation had created a light buzz like a power line, and now there was an overload of sensation and he was about to explode.

His eyes slid shut without his permission, his hands tightening again in the sheets, twisting them and feeling them soak from his sweat. His breathing was harsh and shallow – panting, really – and each inhale only fueled the fire. Didn't oxygen make fire stronger? He'd read that somewhere…

He heard Kate give a gasp, then a moan, then felt her pace change. Her breathing sounded like his felt, and he blindly groped about until he found her center, his thumb pressing into the bundle of nerves at her clit. His eyes wouldn't open farther than slits but he could see her through his lashes, watch her head fling back and her hair whip around her, damp with sweat, her jaw going slack as she flung a silent scream up at the ceiling.

Her tunnel rippled and flexed around him, wild and convulsing like a live wire, seemingly pulling his orgasm out of him like sapping a charge from a battery. He poured into her, gushing like a fountain (wow, he was really into metaphors tonight) as every drop of energy was pulled from him, spent in his final spasms of electric pleasure.

Kate slid out of him, only to collapse on top him a second later, their skin making a wet slapping sound from the mix of sweat that coated their bodies. Rick twirled a lock of damp hair around his finger, brushing his nose against hers before working her mouth open with a kiss.

She tasted like the caviar they'd had as part of the hors d'oeuvres, like the icing from his birthday cake, and… yes, that was definitely some of the Beaujolais wine they'd toasted with. She tasted like his birthday. Hell, she _was_ his birthday.

"I love you." He whispered, feeling his grin split his face.

Kate chuckled again, kissing him on the lips, on the nose, on both cheeks, and on his lips again. "I love you too." She replied. "Now sit still so I can clean this up."

He frowned. Usually he helped to clean up the mess. "Do you need any…?"

"Nuh-uh, birthday boy." She reminded him with a wag of her finger. "Not this time."

He'd never admit it for fear of losing his balls to a certain homicide detective, but he greatly enjoyed getting to lie there while Kate did the clean up.

When that task was finished, Kate slid back into bed beside him. "So did you enjoy your birthday?" She asked, her voice small and unusually timid. "Honestly?"

Rick raised his head and twisted his neck to look at her. "You really have to ask that?" He chuckled, pressing his lips to the top of her head. "Kate, this was the best birthday I've ever had."

They settled back under the covers. "Blew Kennedy's birthday gift right out of the water."

Kate's giggle echoed in his ears. "Happy Birthday, Castle." She whispered, her lips brushing his ear.

He tightened his grip on her slightly. Oh, yes. Even Marilyn Monroe paled in comparison to the woman in his arms.

Happy Birthday to him, indeed.

**Wow. This was ten times sappier than I originally intended. I guess I really missed our favorite crime-solving duo. (And you guys, of course!)**


End file.
